Lethargy on a Saturday Morning during February, 2013

The second month has started in the year that was not to be, not to be, at least, according to interpreters of Mayan culture; well, interpreters only if they had little or no expertise and a strong sense of the hyperbolic. Still, the year ends in “13”, something they seem to have overlooked so there might still be a bit of wiggle room for doom.

The second day of the second month, a nice ring; I wonder what today will bring. It dawned cloudy and misty and wet in the central range of the Colombian Andes; not that it’s exactly raining, it’s more of a damp mist generating mystery. I wonder if there’s any connection between those two words. I look out through the panoramic windows of my apartment and seeing nothing wonder if we too have become invisible, if no one can see us, and if that worries anyone. I reflect: “the same has happened to truth and justice, to equity and honesty, and no one seems to have noticed so that it’s possible we’ve disappeared and no one knows”: a kind of twilight zone scenario. I wonder what my sons are thinking and if they think of me at all? Melancholy, at least, is keeping me company, but not sad melancholy, not even lonely, just speculative; more like the concept expressed by the Portuguese word “saudade” but perhaps with a Brazilian slant..

I listened to a Noam Chomsky interview with “Young Turks” this morning; as always he raised critical issues and made cogent observations but my personal hero seems a bit tired; I can’t blame him: the overdose of injustice counts on generating boredom, on making us lethargic, destroying us with entropy bombs. I think I may have been hit.

So I write a bit; nothing meaningful, just a bit reactionary. Now there’s an interesting word reflecting a misconstrued concept as most concepts are today.
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